


We'll Glow Purple

by spiritofneglect



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Artist Keith, Cuban Lance, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith is adopted, Langst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, They/Them, adopted brothers shiro and Keith, angsty keith, just a little, klangst, mostly mentioned - Freeform, surfer lance, writer lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-30 10:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12106635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritofneglect/pseuds/spiritofneglect
Summary: Keith is pretty relaxed about meeting his soulmate, he just hopes it's a good meet, like you see in all the movies, where you both realise at the same time.But their meeting is less than pleasant, no one realises and Keith is pretty sure, from the moment he sees his art across his soulmate's collar bone, that he's not good enough for the boy before him.And he kinda wishes he never told Shiro anything at all.Lance just hopes he hasn't put his soulmate off with all he's put on his skin in the past.





	1. Less than Pleasant

**Author's Note:**

> ok, so artist Keith and writer and surfer Lance everyone.  
> Whatever you draw on your skin appears on your soulmate's skin, but if you wash it off it doesn't wash off on your soulmate's skin.  
> So if Keith paints on his skin, then it's going to appear on his soulmate's, and if he washes it off it'll still be on them until they too, wash it off.

Keith is having an alright day, better than usual. And that has nothing to with Shiro’s advice to come out her to the docking part of the city, no, nothing at all. It’s not like Keith was pleasantly surprised by the feeling of the sunlight reflecting off the top of the clear water onto his skin, or how the sun warmed the back of his neck that he’d slathered with sunscreen. No, Shiro was completely wrong that he’d like being around the water. So wrong in fact that Keith was walking right on the board walk - wait no, that isn’t right. Maybe Shiro can be right about somethings after all. 

Keith squirts the water of his bottle straight in his mouth, let's some miss and fall down the front of his tank top. It’s a hot day, deliciously hot. The sort of hot that Keith feels going for a long run is well suited to, he’ll stay out all day, work up a sweat and walk around, filling his water bottle at all the water fountains and grab a small punnet of mango sorbet from a small grocery store.  
He has never been to this part of the city area, it isn’t near his university at all, but right along the shores of this far-off town.  
Yeah, he’s having a surprisingly very good day, especially since a lot of it has been in close proximity with water he definitely wouldn’t be able to stand in, sure, he can wade in calm waters, and in fact had today, which was a rarity in it’s own, but Keith has absolutely zero knowledge on how to swim.   
And these boardwalks don’t have railing or anything, it’s just a walk above the water, right next to the limestone wall that it laps against that begins the strip to the restaurants.   


So really, Keith shouldn’t be surprised when his day goes from surprisingly good to holy-Jesus-Christ in a matter of 2 seconds.   
Keith never has genuinely good days that last _all day_ , it’s just a fact. So really it’s a given this would go bad eventually, especially with him near water. That he absolutely would not be able to stand in. At all.   


Keith is minding his own business, standing on the edge of the dock, peering down into the water and watching the shimmer of a small school of fish’ scales blink at him just below the surface of the glittering sea water, when there’s shouts, and someone’s weight slams into his back.   
Keith screeches as he’s shoved forward, and holy shit, the water is suddenly a lot closer than before - and then his mouth is full of shitty salty _disgustingness_ and there’s no way he can breathe right now. It isn’t the sudden coolness that is really shocking in this situation however, but rather the feeling of sinking, and the drag on his limbs as he tries to move. Because shit, he’s in the water, in the water he was just thinking he would absolutely _not_ be able to stand in. He kicks frantically, arms pushing up. And then he’s breaking the surface, and spitting the water out and he can breath - oh wait, can’t breathe anymore. Before Keith even manages to gasp a lungful of air, he’s back under the water, and he’s kicking even harder, exerting all his energy to his legs and arms to make it back up. He breaks again, splutters and tries to breathe before he falls back under. And _Jesus_ , this is hard.   


The next time he manages to get his head above the water he’s searching for something to grab, but hell, he’s been pushed pretty far from the walk and there’s nothing else out here. Then he hears some shouting and just as he’s slipping under again there’s a shadow and a splash.   
Keith feels arms wrap around him from behind, and powerful kicks behind his legs and suddenly his head is above the water, which is licking around his neck and shoulders as he’s directed onto his back.   
“Ok, just don’t panic! Don’t latch onto me, just relax.”   
“Relax!?” Keith is spitting water to get it out of his mouth, but the salt has caked the inside and he realises that he’s moving. He glances down as there’s movement, and he sees one tanned arm wrapped around his chest and another arching at his side as legs pump powerfully beneath him. This stranger is pulling them both toward a ladder and Keith would be relieved if he wasn’t so _pissed_.   
Who the hell knocked him into the goddamn water, _what sort of idiot!?_  


“Just grab this and head up,” the tanned arm that had been wading them towards the ladder grabs the of the ladder and Keith latches onto the rungs, the guy releases him entirely and Keith tightens his hold, drawing in heaving breathes. He’s never been so happy to breathe in his life. And then he’s moving, because if anything, right now, he just wants to lay on the dock in the sun and get _dry_ and tear into the _moron_ that knocked him off the goddamn board walk. Because who the hell even manages that?   
It’s not exactly a narrow walk, it’s at least two meters wide to Pete’s sake!  
Keith drags himself over the top of the ladder and some people come in close and they’re grabbing at his arms to pull him forward, which is kinda helpful you know, cause his limbs feel a hundred times heavier than any of his runs ever do to him, but at the same time this is almost as suffocating as the water and he just wants to have his space right about now. 

Someone is throwing a towel over his shoulders and Keith uses it to ruffle through his hair, which is still up in a pony tail, which must be an absolute mess now.   
“Are you ok?”   


“I’m so sorry, my friend he-“   


Keith moves to the sun, ignoring everyone’s fussing for the moment, and just sits down. He drops the towel beside him and pulls at the hair tie to release his soaked hair. He shakes it out with his fingers and pulls it back up again to get it off his neck.   


“Who- who the hell knocked me into the water!?”  


“Uh, yeah sorry, that was me.”   


Keith snaps back around in the direction of the ladder, and then he realises that those tanned arms that saved him belong to the tanned boy who knocked him. _Goddammit._  


“You-!” Keith snaps, but finds he’s losing his words. He’s torn between thanking them for saving his ass from fucking _drowning_ but he also wants to tear him a new one for even putting him in the situation where he _could_ drown.   


“I’m really sorry ok, I didn’t even see you there-“   


_What!?_   


“What do you mean you didn’t even see me!?” Keith demands, “I was standing right there.”   


“It’s just that I was-“   


“I literally could not have been more obvious if I was waving my arms around and yelling ‘hello! There’s _other people_ on the board walk!’”   


“Well I mean you were pretty quiet-“   


“I shouldn’t have to be loud for you to notice that I was standing there!” Oh my god what was wrong with this guy, and why was he looking offended, Keith was the one who got pushed into the water when he can’t swim!   


The boy stalks forward, all trace of guilt gone as he steps out of the shade of the building, and the sun shines across his light bronze skin, casting it aglow. It is only now that Keith can get a proper look at him, and his obvious good looks is just making him even more pissed.  
It wasn’t every day that he saw someone with such evenly tanned skin and dark, wet hair that caught the light and glistened with it, with blue eyes that reflected the attractive shade of the ocean on a summer day; which is ridiculous by the way, how can anyways eyes be that shade? The scowl he sports however, is really taking away from any of the obvious attractiveness as Keith is reminded of just why he’s scowling at him. Keith’s lips twist to match it and his eyebrows furrow as the tanned boy, clearly a few inches taller than him, stops right in front of him.  


“I said I was sorry ok, how bout you just calm down!”   


“How bout you look where you’re walking!” Keith snaps back, he can feel the anger crawling up his spine, settling in his gut. This moron!  


“Well how bout you learn to swim!”  


Yeah ok that’s it, Keith is pulling an arm back to wind up to knock him off the dock when someone grabs the tanned boy’s arm and pulls him back a little.  
“Lance! Come on calm down.” A big guy, all broad and slightly taller than the bronze boy in front of him, has placed his hands on his shoulders and holds him back. He steps forward and Keith hesitates, slowly lowering his arm. The man’s hands come up, and he gives a nervous smile, “I’m really sorry about my friend here, he’s just easily wound up.”  


“Hey!”  


The big guy shoots a look to who must be Lance, who decides to instead mutter under his breath. Then his attention turns back to Keith. He’s bigger than both himself and Lance put together probably, his skin is tanned even darker than Lance’s but there’s something unthreatening about him. Keith stands tall, crossing his arms.  


“Look, I’m sorry again, ok? My friend here is pretty boisterous and doesn’t always pay attention to his surroundings.”  


“Yeah, ok, that’s…” Keith meets his eyes, and they’re big doe brown and just- how do they look so guilty? He sighs, there’s no way he can be angry at this guy, “It’s fine.”  


“You didn’t have anything on you, did you?”  


“No.” He already used all his cash on his mango sorbet, and he didn’t bother carrying his phone with him today. It’s not like he’s expecting a call or anything. “It’s fine, I’m just going to go.”  


“Uh, ok – sorry again!”  


Keith nods and turns around, just wanting to leave, he doesn’t ever want to see that tanned guy, Lance, ever again.  


“Apologise!”  


“I already did!”  


“Well do it again, while he’s leaving, it’s polite!”  


“He’s not polite!”  


At that, Keith just zones the voices of the two guys out, he doesn’t feel like getting angry again and turning around to deck the guy. He’d rather not have that as just another thing to worry Shiro about.  
And so, day thoroughly spoiled, Keith just heads home, walking the entire way, his limbs still too heavy to jog from the unplanned swim.

 

 

Keith has only just managed to wash the taste of salt water from his mouth on his third round of toothpaste when Shiro calls. Which is just horrible timing really, because Keith is still busy trying to throw his wet, salty clothes into one of the washing machines the university offers with other items he doesn’t really care too much about, like his dated linen.  


“Shiro.” He greets tersely, trying to shove in the still damp tank top with one hand.  


_“You don’t sound impressed.”_   


“I don’t feel impressed.”  


_“Was it the place? I honestly thought-“_   


“It wasn’t the place,” his shorts fall out onto his lap and Keith recoils instantly, “it was the occupants.”  


_“What do you mean? I’ve never had an issue.”_   


“Then count yourself lucky, I’d rather have brushed my teeth and chugged orange juice than go there.”  


There’s a few beats of silence, and then _“it can’t be that bad.”_  


“No, it definitely was.” He slams the front loader shut a little harder than strictly necessary, and can almost feel Shiro wince on the other end of the line. “You do remember I can’t swim, right?”  


_“Keith. You don’t_ have _to swim when you’re there.”_  


“Well apparently you do, according to some asshole on the board walk.” He purposefully puts too much softener in, praying it’ll rid the salty smell from some of his favourite jogging clothes. “Apparently, he thinks you need to swim so much that he _pushes_ you in.”  


_“Oh Keith…”_   


“But then of course, he had to come and grab me and then he couldn’t even apologise properly.”  


_“Do you mean he couldn’t apologise or you were being a hot head?”_   


“Excuse me?” Keith snaps, “I’m not the one who pushed a total stranger into the ocean, where it was _deep_!”  


_“I’m just saying Keith, I know you, he might have tried to apologise.”_   


“Right, thanks, brother.”  


_“Keith...”_   


“No, I get it,” ok he’s definitely gabbed the start button too hard, “your brother is an ass.”  


Shiro sighs, and Keith is just a little too heated to chuckle as his elder brother’s voice goes from normal to lecturer.  


_“Keith I’m just saying, next time, because I know you definitely arked up, leave the arking up till you get back home, ok? So that when you’re then, maybe, just maybe, you can be civilised.”_   


“Thanks, Dad.” Keith quips sarcastically, “anyways I’m going to go, ok?”  


_“yeah, cool. I’ll talk to your tomorrow Keith- wait!”_   


Keith pulls the phone back to his ear as he hears his brother’s cry, raising a brow. “yeah?”  


_“Meet me tomorrow at the Gypsy’s café at 12 and we’ll go to the gym together.”_   


“Fine, I’ll see you there. I’m going now, see ya, Shiro.” And with that he ends the call, sighing.  
“Tomorrow had better be better.”


	2. Painting Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is fairly certain that Lions is a hipster coffee shop, or at least, wannabe hipster coffee shop, if the tacky choice of colour scheme is anything to go by and the grunge interior he can spy through the glass windows.

Keith twirls a paint brush between practiced fingers, ignoring the flick of paint that splatters across the front of his already paint stained white shirt. He tilts his head, narrowing his gaze at the canvas in front of him, the waves are crashing, the blues are jagged, he didn’t want to blend these, the foam is lightning and ice blue with stark white he’s applied in generous slashes of his painting knife. The white paint quite literally stands off the canvas and Keith likes the effect of the wave’s break coming out.  
The problem however?  
He’s not really pleased with water right now, after yesterday’s fiasco.  
So, Keith pretends it’s not water his painting at all, that his paints are emotions he can visualise, that he can see. He applies in uneven strokes, in curls of his brush and strikes of the painting knives, he blends were necessary and nowhere else. He paints the gradient of blue darkening to the gradually, leaves large sections clear. 

He’s stepping back again, admiring the rough waves crashing together on the white backdrop of untouched canvas, when his phone begins to buzz on the window sill.  
Keith sighs as he puts all his stuff down, reluctant to leave his painting now that he was really getting somewhere with it, but alas, a request from Shiro was near impossible to brush off, and so Keith is stripping himself of his paint ridden shirt and tugging off his sweat pants as he exits the room, the plastic sheeting on the floor scrunching after him.  
He thumbs the alarm off, quickly redressing into his second favourite workout clothes, considering his favourite were still pegged to his make shift rope clothes line in front of an open window.  
Earphones in and sketch book tucked underarm with his favourite pencils, Keith leaves the cheap apartment building, jogging down the flight of stairs. 

 

Keith is fairly certain that Lions is a hipster coffee shop, or at least, wannabe hipster coffee shop, if the tacky choice of colour scheme was anything to go by and the grunge interior he can spy through the glass windows.  
Speaking of glass windows, Keith can see Shiro’s back, in his workout tank and his transition of flesh to prosthetic clear as day.  
Keith smiles slightly, happy his elder brother is finally growing comfortable with the attached limb after so long of wearing long shirts and gloves.  
Keith makes his way into the store, a bell chiming above the doorway after him. Shiro turns around in his seat, a stained wooden chair with a cushion bottom. 

“Keith!” 

There’s someone there, someone sitting across from Shiro, and Keith can just spy sheets of paper, littered with streaks of highlighter, sitting on the table. He begins to walk forward, and Shiro stands, gesturing behind him.

“Keith, this is someone I want you to meet-“

And holy shit, Keith _knows_ that face, that tanned skin and the brown, soft curls and the ocean eyes.

 _Shit_.  


“-Lance.”

“You!” Lance cries, having stood from his seat and moved beside Shiro, pointing a finger at him. “From the docks!”

“Great.” Keith groans, “just great. Shiro, how do you even know this guy?”

“Wait-“ Shiro is saying, eyes wide and glancing between a suddenly tired Keith and a fuming Lance. “ _This_ this is the guy from the docks, Keith?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, whoa,” Lance interrupts, “ _you’re_ that guy from the docks, not me.”

Keith wants to claw out his hair, or maybe this guy’s hair. “You’re the one who pushed me into the ocean.”

“I apologised for that!”

“Ok, calm down you two.” Shiro says, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on both their shoulders, acting as a buffer. “Lance said he apologised, Keith, express your forgiveness and apologise too.”

“What? Why!”

“Because I know you,” Shiro raised a brow, “and I know you probably jumped Lance the moment you started talking.”

“He did-“

“I did not-“

“Guys!”

Both turn to the agitated Shiro, whose grip has tightened on their shoulders, “how bout we just move pass it and get along?”

Keith doesn’t say anything, just nods tersely and waits for Shiro to guide Lance away from him.

 

 

Keith tries to ignore the sharp looks he’s getting from Lance, keep his focus on the sketches he’s currently attempting. But that’s kinda hard since every look is whenever there’s a lull in his and Shiro’s conversation, which Keith honestly hasn’t bothered figuring out what it’s about.  
What does he care?

“So, Keith, what are you working on?”

Without even looking up, “aren’t you guys talking about your own work?” Shiro laughs, Lance doesn’t say a word.

“There’s only so much you can say as beta readers.”

That makes Keith look up, he’s heard the term before, but doesn’t really know what it means. He vaguely recalls Shiro calling him one day though, excited about acquiring a ‘beta reader’ Keith has never bothered to ask what it means.

“Beta reader?”

Lance blanches, “you don’t know what that _means_?”

“Well no,” Keith spits, “it’s not exactly a term used in art.”

“Writing is an art.”

It honestly takes him a moment, a moment of staring in pure disbelief, because _there is no way he just said that - oh wow, he did just say that_ ; “Why do you even look smug about that, it’s not even a good point. In fact, it’s ridiculous.” Keith fists his pencil, thumping it on the table, “it clearly doesn’t make sense here.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that writing is art so you can’t use that pathetic excuse for not knowing common knowledge.”

Keith gestures wildly, hands out as he splutters in disbelief, “it’s not even common-“

“Ok guys, calm down.” Shiro’s dad voice is an immediate silencer, both Keith and Lance falling quiet to instead glare at one another. “A beta reader, Keith, is someone who reads your drafted writing and points out flaws, bad grammar, unnecessary words and stuff. Good beta readers can be hard to come across, especially in person. They’re incredibly useful for writing.”

A moment of silence and Keith smirks, “so what, you’re like BBFs, best betas forever?”

“Oh, a joke does not match your face at all.”

“Excuse me, since when did jokes only count when your _face_ was appropriate? And why do you even care?”

“Because that was a bad joke!”

Shiro puts his face in hands, “oh my god.”

Lance gestures to Shiro, “look what you’ve done!”

“Me!?”

“Who else, Shiro’s fine whenever he’s with me!”

“Yeah? Well he’s fine whenever he’s with me, and I’ve been around Shiro more so maybe it’s you.”

“Guys, guys, it’s _both_ of you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen too adults argue like this before.”

Keith and Lance are silent again, staring at Shiro who just sighs, “why did it have to happen like this?”

Lance leans back, muttering, “wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re the one that pushed me into the water.”

“Are you _still_ on about that?”

“Ok!” Shiro stands abruptly, “Keith, time to go to the gym, work out all that crankiness, Lance; I’ll meet you tomorrow for the next draft?”

“Yup, ok, cool.” He glares at Keith, who glares right back, then turns to Shiro, eyes softening notably. “Same time?”

“Yes, same time. I look forward to reading it. I’ll bring mine?”

“Of course!” Lance stands, grabbing one of the stacks of highlight streaked paper. “See ya later, Shiro” eyes narrowing, “ _Keith_.”

“ _Lance_.” He growls back with matching venom, grabbing his pencil and tucking his sketch book under arm.  
Keith stalks from the building, skin prickling with heat, Lance is stupid, so stupid. With his stupidly tanned skin, fucking _perfect_ blue eyes –  
_No goddammit, don’t be gay right now, you’re pissed off!_

 

 

“So, are we going to talk about it?”

Keith pulls his chin above the bar, “about what?”

Shiro sighs, dropping from his own bar to lean against Keith’s. “Lance, obviously.”

He pulls himself up again smoothly, pointedly staring at the far wall. “Nothing to talk about.”

Shiro lets the silence stretch out, but Keith is used to this particular tactic, Shiro will let silence fall until Keith sub consciously feels the need to fill it, and in doing so, reveal secrets or stuff he otherwise wasn’t going to say. It’s a classic psychological trick, and Keith isn’t going to fall for it-

“He just- he just pisses me off, ok? He knocks me into the ocean and-“ he huffs, the chin ups are beginning to ache in his arms now, knuckles white and upper arms trembling as he continues to pull himself up. “he didn’t even apologise properly, tried to tell me it was my fault cause I was being ‘quiet’.”  
Dammit, definitely fell for it.

Keith lets go and drops, shaking out his arms, which don’t feel as tired as they should have, but Keith figures that’s just the anger as he conjures up Lance’s face in his mind. With those ridiculously blue eyes. Honestly, it just pisses him off. That shade of blue should be impossible.

“Keith, look I’m not saying Lance didn’t do something wrong, actually he probably _did_ do something wrong.” He passes Keith his water bottle, who gulps a mouthful gratefully. “but you probably did as well, and I think it’s best you both apologise to each other.”  
Keith chokes and would have spluttered water everywhere if he hadn’t managed to shove his towel over his mouth in time.

“You want _me_ to apologise?”

“Yes?” Shiro begins as they head toward the weights near the back, and Keith muttering darkly about his towel. “Look, you _and_ Lance probably need to apologise, I highly doubt it was just one of you, you were probably both equally guilty of what I am going to assume was an argument after you went in the water.”

“I didn’t do any-“

“We both know you did,” Shiro hums, strangely sing song about it. Keith wants to shove his wet towel in his face to make him shut up. He hopes he’d choke on it.  
“Just, I’ll talk to Lance, and you can both apologise. Ok?”

“You know what, fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes! Fine!” Keith glares at the rack of weights, grabs one two sizes bigger than usual, “I’ll do it, but he’d better not be an ass about it.”

“He won’t, I’ll talk to him. And Keith?” Shiro smiles, soft and proud, “thanks.”  
He’s met with a face full of towel.

 

 

The first thing Lance does upon return to the university dorms, is huff about uselessly as the kettle boils. Which is immature, as he is acutely aware, and not getting any of his work done, another thing he’s aware of. But that isn’t going to stop him, not with his blood pumping like this, a fire in his gut and in his veins.  
Because you know what? Screw Keith, that stupid mullet head who couldn’t swim. Who the hell can’t even swim these days? And why on earth would they stand on the edge of a board walk without rails if they couldn’t?  
It was a recipe for disaster.  
I mean sure, he himself had been the catalyst of said disaster, but it was the fundamental issues that were the real culprit. And all those fell under Keith’s banner of responsibility.  
And well, Lance had done his part, he’d jumped in the water and saved him, so his senior first aid certificate hadn’t been for anything after all. But to think the first time he had to utilise his skills he got yelled at for it. Ridiculous. Keith is ridiculous. His _hair_ is ridiculous.  
_It’s not even the 80s!_

The next thing Lance does, when the kettle _finally_ boils (does it ever take that long? God.) is blast his Spanish music, because no one else is in the dorm and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to listen to Gasolina filling the dorm room at least once this week.  
Two heaps of Nesquik later (strawberry; because who’s favourite isn’t strawberry?), and the god blessed unity of boiling water and milk in a mug, Lance is sipping his hot drink and glaring at wall.  
It’s difficult to stay mad whilst Gasolina booms through the room however, and when sipping on a hot, sweet strawberry drink. 

So, Lance is eventually, with the help of a second strawberry Nesquik and a Gasolina replay, calm enough to read over his now beta read story. Shiro is meticulous, and Lance has had him beta for so long he doesn’t even need to look at the highlighter colour key at the top of the page to know what the five different colours mean.  
He reads through the yellows first, opening his computer to the document and fixing all the grammar and sentence structures that don’t work and is halfway through the blue highlights for unnecessary words and sentences when the door wings wide and a scandalized Hunk steps through the doorway.

“Turn it down Lance!” but Hunk knows him well enough to grab the Cuban’s phone from the table himself, and pause the song entirely. “literally no one else likes that song.”

“It’s a great song!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Ok, so it’s not really a good song, but-“ he leans forward, finger gunning, “it _is_ catchy. Come one Hunk, I know you know the lyrics.”

“Nope, no, not happening.”

“Come _on_ , Hunk”

Hunk turns to Lance’s phone, and it takes only a few moments to realise what he’s doing, and Lance immediately shrieks in protest and flings himself toward the Samoan who retaliates by holding it high up with one hand and combating with the other.

“No, Hunk! Don’t betray me!”

“It is for the good of the earth, Lance!”

“Noooooo!”

And then Hunk stills, peers at the screen and nods, passing him his phone, Lance stares down at it, then turns slowly to Hunk.

“I can’t believe you turned it off just to get me off the blue tooth.”

Hunk shrugs, patting Lance’s shoulder with a ‘sorry-not-sorry’ smile, connecting his own phone to the portable speakers.

The beats begin and Lance can’t help smirking, “ok, maybe I can forgive you for Beyoncé.”

“That’s what I thought!” and then, icing on top of the cake, Hunk spins around, the strawberry Nesquik in hand.

“Hunk, my man, I love you.”

He hums, flicking the kettle back on. “I know, now back to work, that isn’t going to rewrite itself.”  
Not even three minutes later Lance throws his hands high, shouting something about not being in his ‘zone’ and flicks the TV into life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been experimenting with this different writing style. Usually I'm very setting and description heavy with emotive language blah blah. So I've been trying to write this as something more digestible?  
> I realise that my usual writing style can be really heavy and sometimes people just want an easier read, and sometimes I want a piece that's easier to write.   
> My other works can be so investing and so emotionally charged that I don't always want to write it, because in all honesty it can be really tiring and I literally have a thesaurus open on one of my desktops.   
> Anyways, I will be using my usual style in some of the more delicate moments, so be prepared for some more heavy descriptions, emotive language, I'll be laying it on thick like I usually do. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope everyone likes this, I hope it an easy, enjoyable read as I am trying to make it!   
> I love your comments, kudos and book marks!   
> I hope to see you guys in chapter three!


End file.
